Tortured: A Tale of Camelot
by CaliTigeress
Summary: After the battle between the Britons Woads and the Saxons there is still panic in the capitol, Camelot. But even more panic will ensue once a thought dead girl resurfaces to rattle Galahad's cage.
1. Finding a Pict

Tortured: A Tale of Camelot

Galahad sat atop his horse looking for trouble. As a Knight of the Roundtable he was sworn to protect anyone in need. Camelot was in turmoil. Everyone was returning after the battle between the Woads and the Knights against the Saxons. People were bustling about looking for old homes, thieves were looking for homes to ransack, and Galahad sat above it all looking for scuffles and disputes to break up.

Women sighed as he rode past. With his shoulder length curly sable hair he was their rescuer and protector not to mention extremely handsome. They could feel his emerald eyes assess the streets making sure they were safe.

"Sir," a peasant yelled. Galahad turned his horse towards the voice. A peasant franticly motioned him over.

"What is it man?" Galahad inquired.

The man did not respond. Galahad dismounted and hurried over to the male who was now in hysterics. He pushed his way through the crowd to find the object of their attention. But it wasn't what he thought it'd be.

He was staring down at a Pict. Not just any Pict, a girl Pict. Not that he wasn't used to them. After Guinevere had become queen they were everywhere, but she was beat up. He could see the bruises on her face, and the blood running out of a cut lip. He could also see bruises on her stomach and on her shoulders. The Pict's women's warrior garb was revealing to say the least. Her breasts were spilling out of the "top". He saw there were even bruises there too. "What happened to her?" he asked stunned as he kneeled down beside her. Once his face was closer to hers he noticed how beautiful she was. Her hair was a light brown with blonde highlights. He couldn't tell what color her eyes were because they were closed, but she had beautiful lashes. They were like black moonbeams across her once pale skin. There was a small black tattoo by her eye. Galahad leaned closer to see what it was. It was a star. A perfect five-pointed star right by the corner of her left eye. One of her hands was right next to her temple. Her wrists were scarred and disfigured. Like she had been in chains or tied with rope, and there were stars twining over her wrists too.

"Who did this?" he asked knowing that he would not get an answer. This had been torture from months and months. This was not some casual beat up wench. This was serious.

He looked up at a man that was hovering over his shoulder. "Will you fetch my horse?" Galahad asked. The man nodded dumbly. The knight would guess that none of the crowd huddled around him and the Pict had seen someone in such bad shape. It was a miracle she was even alive. He placed his arm under her head and under her folded legs just as he was about to lift her. Her eyes flickered open. He caught a flash of piercing blue before they closed again.

"Guinevere," she gasped, then black over took her.

"Guinevere?" Galahad whispered confused, but he knew an answer would not pass her parted cherry red lips. The crowd parted as the man that Galahad had sent to get his horse came back. The black animal was led through the midst of the people. But they were not really paying attention to the horse. Instead they were looking at the tenderness that a bloodthirsty Roundtable Knight was paying to the tortured woman.

The honey-haired woman was light. She didn't have the appearance that she had been starved, but nonetheless to Galahad she seemed like she might just float away. He carried her through the crowd that was still staring intently.

The horse shifted uneasily at the sight of his master and the burden he carried. It was almost as if the horse knew she was not in good shape. Galahad whispered sweet nothings to the horse to calm it down. He boosted the warrior maid onto the horse. Not used to the deadweight of an unconscious person the black beauty stamped in place.

"Steady, Oberon," Galahad said soothingly. "Steady." The horse stilled under his master's compelling voice. Swinging up into the saddle, he settled behind the Woad. He was amazed at how well she fit into his arms. Her curves accented all his hard planes. Her long hair was flowing like a banner behind them as they flew towards the fortress known as Camelot.

"What juicy bundle have you got there, Galahad?" Gwaine yelled down from the battlements.

"I don't know who she is. She only mentioned one name." Galahad yelled back. Stable boys rushed from their posts to help the knight dismount. Galahad carefully lowered the star girl from her perch.

"What was it?" Gwaine asked coming down the stairs. He looked at the girl that Galahad held so reverently.

"Guinevere," he said as an almost prayer. "Some how she knows Guinevere." Gwaine covered the space between him and Galahad. Looking at the girl up close was looking at was like looking at what not to do to a human being. Gwaine couldn't remember a time when he looked as bad as her.

"Fetch the queen," he commanded a nearby laundry woman.

"I can't milord I have-"

"Quickly girl the laundry can wait." Galahad yelled at her. The lass scurried off, leaving an upturned laundry basket behind her.

"You didn't have to snap at her Galahad. She was just doing her job."

"So you're saying that laundry is more important than a life, Gwaine?" Galahad replied hotly.

"I did not say that!"

"Well, that is what it sounded like!" Gwaine deemed that Galahad was being irrational and there was nothing that he could say that would not make his friend act rashly.

Sighing with relief at the sight of the laundress Gwaine was saved from long moments of awkward silence. "Where's the queen, girl?"

"She is telling me to tell you to bring the girl inside. She was…" the girl blushed a bright red. "Finishing something with milord the king."

"Arthur can't give up a good fuck for a dying Pict!" Galahad yelled. Gwaine brought his hand around and slapped him.

"You keep a civil tongue in your head! You have no right to criticize Arthur! He has every right to spend time with Guinevere. This is one of the first times they've been able to be by themselves since the Saxon invasion!" Galahad looked like he might make another remark equally as bad, so Gwaine cut him off. "Let's take the girl inside. We can at least help her that much until Guinevere comes."

"We will put her in my room." Galahad said abashed for being such a prig. Galahad kept stealing looks at the blue warrior in his arms. She was so beautiful! He wanted to kill the bastards that had done this to her. No person had the right to do this to another human being.

Galahad's room lacked finesse and fine things, but it had a bed and that was what the star girl needed. Laying her carefully on the rumpled covers, he stroked her hair. It wasn't coarse and rough like the whores in the city, no, it was smooth like Chinese silk.

Gwaine watched this all silently, knowing, even if Galahad didn't know, that him and the dying Pict belonged together. They had the same silent chemistry as Artur and Guinevere. I I wonder what she's like? I'm guessing she has fire to survive the torture she had and still be alive. But what else/I

The door to Galahad's room burst open. "What is it? What is so important?" The queen looked far from composed. Her hair and dress were disheveled. The sable mass was flowing from behind her.

Gwaine gave her a broad wink and a becoming pink blush flowered over her already flushed cheeks.

"She is," Galahad said from his seat on the bed. His hand held the pale hands of the warrior maiden.

"No it can't be," Guinevere breathed out. "She's dead." She walked over to the be starred girl on the bed. Gwaine and Galahad looked up at their queen, startled that she was to taken aback. "Alanna?"

The girl's eye's flickered open.

_Where am I?_ was the first thing Alanna thought. She tried to raise herself off the bed and stand, but her limbs had given out. The months of journeying and years of torture had taken their toll.

"Where am I?" she moaned out. The bed shook as someone upon it jumped off.

"Alanna?" A familiar voice said. "Alanna?" She turned her head toward the voice and she laid her eyes on the queen of Britain.

"Guinevere?" Alanna whispered. The sable-haired queen flung herself unceremoniously at her.

"Oh Alanna 'tis you! I thought you were dead! We all thought you were dead!"

"How do you know each other?" A British voice said. Alanna knew from years of hearing different accents that he was not born a Briton, but she could also tell he'd been here a while. When her gaze found the speaker she was shocked. She had just been having dreams about this man. Brown curly hair framed his handsome face. Most men of Britain had long, unkempt hair, but his was short, only four or five inches long.

Blue eyes like the ocean on a calm day surveyed her. Alanna hated when people stared. She shot him a glare that could have annihilated the fiery depths of Hell. He didn't flinch. He didn't even stop scrutinizing at her.

"Stop looking at me you bastard!" She said devilishly calm. The air of hostility was broken by a wracking cough that tore from Alanna's lungs.

"Sorry milady," he said with an imperious air, but concern flitted across his eyes.

"No you are not," she shot back. He nodded in response knowing Alanna was right.

Guinevere glanced back and forth between Alanna and Galahad. His pure cerulean eyes were locked in battle with Alanna's gold specked ones. Both Gwaine and the Queen could see the sparks about to fly.

"Why aren't you answering my question?" said the knight still not blinking.

"Because I don't like bloody basatards that pry!"

"Well maybe you should eventu-"

"STOP! I demand you to both stop!" Guinevere yelled over the two bickering warriors. "You two need to get along. Especially because you will be sharing a room…"

"WHAT!" they yelled in unison. Guinevere continued on as if she hadn't heard either of their out bursts.

"And in answer to your question, Galahad. Alanna is my younger sister." Alanna was turning a bright red and sputtering.

"Why must I share a room with him?"

"Because my dear little sister, his room is closest to mine and Arthur's so I could care for you easier and because there are no extra rooms in the palace. Therefore you will be sharing a room. I will have one of the servants make a bed for you on the floor, Galahad." Gwaine was trying hard not to laugh at the outrage on his friend's face. If only Galahad could get past the shock of his and Alanna's first impression than Galahad would realize what a beauty he was sharing a room with.

"If you say so my lady," Galahad said hoping for a way out of this mess.

"I do, and if I here fighting from this room….ever…then you will both be charged with being confined together in this room." Alanna's jaw dropped. When had Guinevere learned to fight dirty? "I want no complaints from you Alanna. If I hear an outburst of any sort…"

"I promise to be good Gwen." Alanna said reluctantly. "But only if he promises to be a gentleman." She added. The glare that Galahad flashed her was full of hatred but she met it head on.

"Galahad…"

"Fine Gwen I promise." He gritted the words out, making sure that the woman lying on his bed heard the hate in it. How did she make him want to kill her? Before she had woken up he would have died for her, not even knowing her name or her story. Now…Galahad was seriously considering why the people who captured her didn't kill her.


	2. Bleeding

Tortured: A Tale of Camelot

Alanna was having the same thoughts about Galahad. _He was so kind in my dream_, she thought. _Now I want to rip his throat out._ Even through the haze of hate she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. She even liked the cocky way he held himself, his chest puffed out and taking a stance that made him look like he could take on the whole world. I Shit I can't like the enemy…. Living here is going to be Hell/I

Without warning the world in front of her spun and she blacked out.

_"One," shouted a voice across a city square. Alanna felt the lash bite into her back. She bit back a scream by biting her lower lip and clenching her hands tighter around the leather thongs that held her up._

_"Two!" The voice said. Again the cat-o'-nine-tails fell upon her unprotected flesh. Alanna could feel every one of the nine strands that hit. Small pieces of glass and terra cotta were tied into the deadly leather straps and they were tearing through the skin._

_"Three." Alanna was trying not to think. Not to respond. "Four!" She could feel the blood trickling down her back. A crowd had gathered and they were screaming for blood. I I think they might find me more interesting than the current gladiator match. /I Alanna thought sardonically. She was going to yell out the insolent retort, but again the Roman torture device whisked across her back. She was so caught up in her thoughts she didn't notice the next few strikes._

_"Seven!" Alanna's back was on fire. An acute throbbing had set in and tears were silently flowing down her cheeks. Still she did not cry out._

_"Ten!" After the fire and after the throbbing numbness set in, Alanna felt detached from her body. As if she was watching the beating being inflicted on her instead of experiencing it._

_"Twenty-Seven!" A black haze was covering her vision. Alanna was beginning to lose the fight to stay conscious._

_"Twenty-Eight!" Alanna was so far gone she did notice the whip had stopped. Rough hands grabbed her bloodstained wrists and hacked at the leather that was holding her in place. The unfeeling torturers didn't break her fall when she collapsed to the ground. All her strength was gone. Her consciousness was almost gone. And her will to live and exist on the earth was overcome with agony. For once her fight to remain free was gone from her mind, and in its place was the wish to die._

Galahad saw Alanna twisting and turning on the bed, but he didn't know what to do didn't know what to say. Guinevere had left with strict instructions not to wake her, but now….. Galahad didn't know how to handle a nightmare. Quietly he walked over to the bed. Not wanting to wake her, not wanting for her to stay asleep.

"It is going to be all right, Alanna," he whispered stroking her back. "Just calm down…" After running his hand one or two times dwon her back, she began to quiet. That was also when Galahad noticed there was something sticky on his hands.

"Guinevere," Galahad gasped out. She shot up in bed. A groaning Artur was burying himself back under the covers.

"What is it Galahad?" She asked trying to remain calm. Having a full-grown knight burst into her room was not a regular nightly occurance.

"She's bleeding, Gwen. She is bleeding all over." Gwen looked at Galahad's outspread hands. They were covered in blood.

It took no time for Guinevere, Galahad, and Arthur to make it back to Galahad's room. (Arthur had immediately come awake at the mention of blood.) When they breached the doorway and lit a candle they all saw Alanna writhing in pain and the twisted red stripes that ran across her back.

"Bloody hell! What happened to her?" Arthur said shocked.

"I don't know." Galahad whispered. Guinevere wasted not time and woke her sister up.

"Alanna….Alanna!" Guinevere was shaking her, but still she did not wake.

"Get off me you goddamn son of a bitch!"

"Alanna wake up!" In the second that it takes to blink Alanna's held a shiny blade, and in the next it was pushed up against Guinevere's neck. Arthur took one look at the knife and knew that this girl was an expert. "Alanna it is me…Guinevere!"

"Gwen?" She moaned out groggily. Slowly the blade came off Gwen's neck.

"You were having a nightmare, Lanna. Everything is going to be all right." A tear leaked out of the scared girl's eyes. "Everything is going to be all right." While Guinevere ran her hand's over Alanna's silky hair, her little sister drifted off to sleep.

"Arthur go get some hot water and bandages from the healers, and bring a healer with you!" Knowing how determined Gwen could be the king left with out a word. Guinevere pried the knife out of the star entwined hand. "Turn her over, Galahad."

Reverently he placed his hand on either side of her and flipped her onto her stomach. As Gwen turned lit more candles the evidence of cruelty could be seen all down Alanna's back. Wounds crisscrossed over and under each other. Some were almost scarred over and the others, most, were bleeding. Galahad pulled her honey colored hair out of the sticky blood. _Who would do such a thing? What could she do to earn this type of punishment_?Galahad had never done this to a foe, let alone a woman!

Once Gwen got a look of her sister's back she almost threw up. She had seen battles and decapitated corpses and a whole number of grisly sights, but nothing prepared her for seeing it done to her sister. _I have been tortured, but not this bad. Not like this. My captors were playing with my mind…. Hers… hers were trying to break her. Liking every drop of blood that they spilled…._

The coppery scent of blood filled the air, and just then Arthur rushed in with the bandages and the healer. Blood was spread over Galahad's bed and hands.

Alanna was still tossing and turning on the bed, but Galahad was smoothing her hair and Guinevere was slowly slitting the top that Alanna was wearing off her back. When Alanna was topless, Guinevere motioned for the healer to come over. She shoved the bandages into Guinevere's hands and fled the room leaving her with her mouth open staring at the cloth in her palms.

"Come back!" Screamed Arthur at the doorway. But it was all to no avail; the only person who could "fix" Alanna was gone.

"Shh, Arthur. We can do this. We can heal her, and by all that is holy we will!" A moan came from the bed. "Now let's hurry before it is too late. I can't believe we didn't notice the wounds before!" Now shoving the white clothes in Arthur's hands she knelt next to her sister, surveyed the damage, and began to pour hot water on Alanna's back.

Galahad sat on the bed next to Alanna. The white bandages on her back rose and fell with each steady breath. Still stroking her hair he just sat there. The honey hair was fanned out around her face and black lashes were long and thick against her pale skin. That was the only thing that showed she was sick, other than the bandages. The deathly hue of white made her look like wax, but Galahad knew she was, thankfully, alive.

Placing one of her limp hands in his he ran his thumbs over the back of her palms. When he saw the scars and stars on her wrist he, again wondered who had done this to her. I I wish I could take away all her pain. All the suffering… /I Just then she began to whimper again. A flush was in her cheeks and fear was in her features.

"It is all right, star girl. Everything is going to be fine. No one is going to hurt you." With that he put his stomach up against her back, fitting his body with hers, and fell asleep.

Galahad blinked the sun from his eyes. His face was buried in a mass of silken hair, and all he wanted to do was fall back asleep. Then he realized whose silken hair he had put his face in. _I am in bed with Gwen's sister. I am in bed with Alanna. The woman I "hate"._ He jumped off the mattress, acting as if Alanna was a scalding hot piece of iron. He glanced down at her.

Hair gleaming gold in the rays of the sun she looked healthy, although there were bandages all along her torso, and bruises were still spattered all over her exposed body. Galahad didn't know if he had ever seen a prettier woman. The way she was sprawled on the bed to the way the breath escaped from her lips made Galahad want to stay with her. Even if it was just to sit by her and hold her hand.

Gwen watched Galahad from the doorway. After waking up two hours ago she had come into the room to find her baby sister and Galahad snuggled together on the bed. Alanna had looked serene and Galahad so content that she did not have the heart to wake them. _It will save me hours of their fighting._ Guinevere had mentally chuckled.

She had never seen Galahad act this way. Never had she seen him be so rude to a lady, or seen him look so scared when he had blood on his hands. It was well known through out those based at Camelot that Galahad rarely killed for fun. He was not afraid to fight nor was he afraid of blood, and that was what baffled Guinevere. The absolute look of loss on his face had made Gwen want to cry. _How can he miss what he hates,_ she had wondered. And know she knew. Deep down Galahad had feelings for Alanna. Why he was afraid to show them, Gwen didn't know, but the fact that the uncatchable knight had been caught in less than a few moments frightened Gwen.

"How long have you been standing there?" asked the knight in question. Gwen gave Galahad a startled blink.

"What?"

"I asked how long you have been standing there." Galahad repeated.

"Only a couple of seconds," Gwen managed to say. Not letting on that in fact she had been there for more than a half an hour. "You did not hear me come to the door, and I did not want to frighten you. So I waited until you came out for that trance." The queen took a few steps into the room, as Galahad turned his eyes back to Alanna.

"She will be all right," she whispered assuringly, laying her hand on his shoulder.

"Why would I care?"

"I don't know," Gwen said trying not to be offended by his sharp tone. "You just looked like you needed to hear it. That's all."

"Well, I don't care," and with that remark he stormed out of the room. Gwen watched the retreating figure. Something had just happened, and even though she had been watching she had completely missed it.


	3. Revelations

Tortured: A Tale of Camelot

"What the hell is your problem?" Gwaine asked intercepting Galahad. "You haven't been this surly since the time we woke you up in the middle of the night with freezing cold water." Galahad gave his friend a glare and tried to keep moving, but again Gwaine moved to stop him. "You aren't going anywhere until you give me an answer, Galahad."

"I don't know," he muttered. "There is nothing wrong, and I am not acting surly."

"You are," Gwaine said. "And I think I know why. Galahad…it is okay to be attracted to someone." A look that could have burned down the Roman Empire was shot Gwaine's way. "Whoa there Galahad! There is no reason to get angry, just because I called your bluff doesn't mean you can blow up at me!"

"I am not in love, Gwaine. Don't you dare ever mention that again!" Galahad spit out. Gwaine was surprised at the conviction with which Galahad said the words. Then with out a backward glance he stormed off.

Trying to keep his anger under control, Galahad walked up to the ramparts of Camelot. He needed to clear his head, and figure out where all the aggression was coming from. Galahad was not known as an angry knight, or even an angry person. Lancelot had been the more brooding, cynical, angry sort. Not him. The infuriating part about the whole thing was that he could not pinpoint where the emotion was coming from.

He knew it wasn't wrong to fall in love. Bors had and he was quite content with his life. There was nothing wrong with it. But Galahad could not seem to figure out his feelings towards Alanna. He knew he felt more than just attraction. There was a pull that kept him always thinking of her.

_It must be the way she verbally attacks me, _he thought. _It just makes me want to cut her head off…or…or_. He ignored the small voice in his head that whispered: _Or make love to her._ Slamming his palm into his forehead he tired to expel the thought of making love to the golden-haired woman. The pictures were just to arousing to keep thinking.

Turning his attention to the landscape around him, Galahad tried to shut her out of his mind, but the thoughts just kept coming. Flashes of her went through his head like lightning. The way she looked when he first found her, all bruised and bloody. The way she looked when she was having a nightmare, and finally the way she had looked when he had woken up next to her not even an hour ago.

He began pacing. Wanting to think of something else he started to think of what he should do once things settled down. Would he return to his homeland of Samaria, or stay in Britain. He had nothing left in Samaria, his family would probably not recognize him or they would be hard to locate because of their nomadic ways. On top of all of that, they were probably dead.

Galahad snapped out of his trance like state to find he was not up on the battlements, but in front of the door to his room. He stood there shocked, not knowing what to do.

"What have I got to lose?" he asked himself aloud. Then with a small creak he opened the door and stepped into the room.

Blinking her eyes in the sunlight, Alanna was surprised to feel well rested and content. Not in almost a year had she ever gone the night without a nightmare. Reveling in the sleepy/happy feeling she rolled over. Sprawling out she was surprised to find that her elbow had sunken into a dent in the mattress. One glance showed that it was the approximate size of a man.

"Oh no," she groaned aloud. She had slept with him. He had spent the night in her/his bed. Alanna didn't know what she was more afraid of. The fact that she might have been violated when she was asleep, or the way the dreaminess/ floaty feeling of having him there made her feel.


End file.
